


Summer of 1967

by zellieh



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, P G Wodehouse - Jeeves and Wooster series
Genre: 1960s, Alternate Identities, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Banter, British History, British Politics, Civil Rights Movement, Closeted, Committed Relationship, Disguise, Equal Rights, Established Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, Gay Marriage, Gay Rights, Happy Ending, Homosexuality, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Marriage Proposal, POV Male Character, Period-Typical Homophobia, References to Homophobia, Same-Sex Marriage, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Servants, Wordplay, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-25
Updated: 2008-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 13:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zellieh/pseuds/zellieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I intend to lunch at the Hephaestion Club this afternoon with my dear friend, Reginald. Perhaps you could pass the invitation on to him for me? Oh, and a green carnation in the buttonhole today, Jeeves, if you please."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer of 1967

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Peak in Darien](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Peak+in+Darien).



> In 1967, the Sexual Offences Act was passed in Britain, which protected homosexual men from arrest for the first time. Although it didn't go nearly far enough, and many gay men were still arrested or harassed by the police, it was an important step in the equal rights movement. I wanted to show Jeeves and Wooster's reaction to this event. Lord "Boofy" Arran was a real campaigner who helped get the Bill passed through Parliament.

 

**11:00 AM**

"Good morning, sir. Breakfast is served." 

I smiled at my paragon of virtue, and settled in at the breakfast table, flicking through the papers for the articles on the particular subject I was interested in. After a moment or two of squinting at the tiny typefaces, and failing to cudgel the grey matter into any useful shape, I gave in to the inevitable and asked Jeeves. "Jeeves, that new Bill we were talking about - did it pass?"

"Yes, sir. Homosexuality is now legal, although the age of consent is set at 21. Kissing or holding hands in public is still an offence to public decency-"

"Bother!"

"-and any sexual activity must be conducted in private." 

"Well, I would jolly well hope so!"

"Indeed, sir. Also, the maximum number of participants in any sexual act is two, and I believe it is likely that the police will decide that hotel rooms and restaurants count as public, rather than private places. Some of the more traditional policemen may even object to any act when there are more than the two people concerned on the premises, even if they are not actually in the room in question."

"Really? That seems a bit strict."

"Yes, sir. Still, it is a great improvement, I believe. Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, thank you, Jeeves. Everything is perfect, as always."

  
  
 **12:00 NOON**

"Jeeves, I think you should take the afternoon off."

"Sir?"

"I intend to lunch at the Hephaestion Club this afternoon with my dear friend, Reginald. Perhaps you could pass the invitation on to him for me? Oh, and a green carnation in the buttonhole today, Jeeves, if you please."

"Of course, sir." Jeeves inclined his head, stepped forward to attach the boutonnière I had requested, dusted off the shoulders of my suit jacket, straightened my tie, and turned and left the room briskly.

Slouching into my chair, I waited impatiently. A few minutes later, Reginald arrived, clad in a beautifully-cut dark navy suit, with an impeccably-cut tie, his hair slicked back neatly, and his eyes twinkling.

"Ah, Reginald, there you are! Would you care to accompany me to the Hephaestion for lunch, dear fellow?"

"I would be delighted, Bertie."

I smiled at him, happily, curled my hand comfortably into the crook of his arm, and we set off.

  
  
 **1:30 PM**

"So, Reginald, the papers seem to be having a field day with the news, what?"

"Oh, yes, they do love stories with sex and scandal in them. Several columnists were saying it's a moral outrage and the death of society as we know it. The permissive society will lead to some sort of unspecified social uprising as the moral laxity rots all of our old fighting spirit, and so forth."

"Obviously these are people who've never been to a good boarding school, Reggie. You've never seen fighting spirit until you've spent the years between eight and eighteen locked in a boys' dorm at one of England's finest Institutions."

"I shall take your word for it."

"Still, it's progress, isn't it? Shame old Boofy Arran's brother isn't here to see it, but still, I think this calls for champagne." I smiled across the table at Reginald, and he quirked his lips back at me, before raising his eyebrow to summon the sommelier like a genie out of a bottle.

"We would like a bottle of champagne, please; the 1932."

  
  
 **3:30 PM**

Reggie frowned at me; I find even his frown is adroable. "The law does not allow-"

"Yet. The law does not allow two men to marry yet. Laws change!" I waved a hand around the Hephaestion's dining room, where men were merrily celebrating the change in the law all around us, clinking glasses, drinking outrageous toasts, and dancing on the small dancefloor.

Reginald continued to protest, but his voice was weakening. "It seems foolish-"

"Love makes fools of us all! You have helped me escape innumerable inappropriate engagements, Reginald; why not help me enter in to one that I intend to keep?" 

"Bertie-"

I kissed Reg's hands and gripped them, tightly, gently. I looked up at my lover's face, and smiled. "Will you, Reginald Jeeves, take me, Bertram Wooster, to be your husband, to love and to cherish and all that jazz, as long as we both shall live?" 

Reginald looked at me, stunned and suspiciously watery-eyed, and said "I- I- Very well. Yes."

I leaned forward to kiss him soundly on the lips, and he moaned, softly. I pulled away and beamed at my fiance. "Waiter! We'd like another bottle of your finest champagne, please!"

  
  
 **5:30 PM**

I stared blearily around me, leaning against my fiance for support. The surroundings seemed familiar, but I was almost certain they didn't usually move around like that. "Reggie, are you sure this is our flat? Do we have a pair of those ugly silver thingamajigs on the mantelpiece now, because I always thought we only had one?" 

"Yes, it is our flat, and don't worry about Aunt Agatha's candlestick right now, darling; I have plans for it," said Reggie, my beloved betrothed, holding me up with one warm, strong arm around my waist as he steered me towards the sofa and dropped me gently on it.

"Oh, good. And are we the only two people in our flat, Reggie darling?"

"Yes, we are."

"Oh good. Did you know that homosexual acts between two consenting adults over the age of 21 are now legal, in private?" I smiled at him, and stroked his cheek, and he covered my hand with his own, turned it, and kissed my palm, folding my fingers down around his kiss.

"I am aware of that, yes," he said, dryly, his eyes twinkling at me as I sprawled back on the sofa cushions.

"And did you know that we are now in private, over 21, both bent as a three-bob note, and also engaged to be married?" I fluttered my eyelashes at him - or tried to, anyway; one of them seemed to get stuck, and I rubbed at it with my fist, muttering, "Do you think women get special training before operating their eyelashes? Madeline Bassett made it look so easy..."

Reggie, my darling beloved beautiful Reggie, snorted at me, and took off my shoes.

Reggie has the best ideas; all that brain food, I suspect. I smiled up at him, suddenly absurdly happy, and stretched out, stripping off my tie and hurling it away. "Kiss me, Reggie. Ravish me like the hero from one of those stories by whatshername, that writer woman you had to dress up as."

Reggie chuckled at me, warmly, and said, "I would love to ravish you, Bertie, but I think I'd be better off letting you nap while I make you some of my patented hangover cure." 

Leaning down, he kissed me on the cheek, and then went into the kitchen. I curled up and listened to the homely clattering of pots and pans and happy whistling in the kitchen, and started singing under my breath, "I'm mad about the boy..."

  
  
 **8:10 PM**

"So, Jeeves, when do you intent to turn in for the night?" I asked, watching as Jeeves bent over to put things away in one of the lower kitchen cupboards.

Straightening up and catching me looking, Jeeves raised an admonishing eyebrow at me, and said, "Well, sir, after my afternoon off, I am somewhat behind, and since you usually retire quite late, I thought I might stay up to catch up with-"

"Nonsense, man! Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise, as they say. You can catch up with it all tomorrow, can't you?" I looked at him, pleadingly, and his eyes softened. 

"Of course, sir. In that case, I will be retiring at nine, sir."

I looked at the clock, which said eight-fifteen. "Good. Then I shall toddle off to bed, I think. Come, Jeeves - the nightly routine beckons! The siren call of something-or-other, and all that."

Luxuriating in the feeling of crisp pyjamas, and anticipating the delights of a warmed bed, I stretched and yawned. The new digital clock beside the bed, which Jeeves hated, but I insisted upon, read 8:57, precisely. Jeeves turned back the covers for me, and I sighed happily as I sank into the warmth, cradling the cup of hot cocoa he handed me against my chest. Jeeves tidied my things away in his usual efficient fashion, and I watched his sleek form move about my boudoir like a metaphor of something perfectly tailored to its intended function. He truly is a jewel whose price is beyond rubies.

The clock ticked over beside me, and let out a rather uncouth beeping noise as it turned nine. Jeeves winced visibly, and turned. "Will that be all, sir?"

I looked around the room, and everything in it was perfect, as it always is when Jeeves is there. "Yes, I think so. You have vanquished the cuff-links and the ties have surrendered to your might. You may retire from the fray with honour, as usual." I waved a gracious hand at the room, and at Jeeves, and he smiled at me, that small, secret smile of his that I like to think no-one else has ever seen.

"Very well, then. Goodnight, Mr. Wooster."

"Goodnight Jeeves." I smiled at him, broadly, amused as always by this game he insists we play, and he took a step forward, his eyes hungry, and then stopped himself, and with perfect discipline, disrobed.

Reginald is a master of undressing, and I after so many years together, I can see his mood in every move. Brisk efficiency indicates an energetic mood, and leads to a certain soreness on my part the next day, while the more time and care he takes with his clothes... Well, let me just say that I was looking forward to future events with some anticipation. 

 


End file.
